I dreamed about her again last night.

This dream was different, though.  I wasn’t sad.  I wasn’t melancholy.  I mostly wondered why she was there, and wondered when she’d be leaving.  Our words were awkward.  Our smiles were forced. 

 

Neither of us wanted her to be there.

 

This is progress.  This looks like the sign I’ve been waiting for to show myself that I’ve accepted what I cannot change. 

 

I’m both heartbroken and happy.